


We Just Get Drunk and Play With Cats...

by CentellaWrites



Category: China Illinois
Genre: Belligerent Sexual Tension, Cheating, Cunnilingus, Drunk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Foot Fetish, Frank blows the client for the good of the firm, Frank is a dick, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Nipple Play, Sexism, Which I don't usually write but Frank seemed to have one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24737305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CentellaWrites/pseuds/CentellaWrites
Summary: I wrote this earlier this year when I noticed a severe lack of Frank smut in the non existent China, IL fandom. Here he is, on a "business meeting" with Polly, the inspector.Spoiler alert: they don't just get drunk and play with cats.
Relationships: Frank Smith/Polly
Kudos: 4





	We Just Get Drunk and Play With Cats...

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to write this with some fun Brad Neely-like language to experiment, and it was a great time.
> 
> Frank's horrible but I love the kinky bastard.

Polly strutted across Frank’s car giddily, two cats in her purse. They’d planned to take home more, but a snide remark from the pet shop owner was all it took for Frank to blow up in his face, feed one of the hamsters to the snake, and immediately get kicked out.

Luckily, she didn’t care. And they already paid for the two.

Frank grunted, arms crossed, a snarl on his face. “Goddammit!” he said, never able to have an inside voice. “Call me ‘Moses’, you creetan.  _ You’re _ the one who owns a pet shop with fatass fucking rodents!” He kicked his bumper and stormed into his apartment.

Polly followed, unfazed by his temper tantrum, playfully twiddling the kittens’ noses. She pet them as they mewed and purred into her pursed hand while she tossed back a shot bottle of Jack with the other.

Continuing his mumbling, Frank tossed a pillow off his couch right by the door and picked up his mason jar full of red wine that he had covered while he was out. “Hey, Polly, you wanna glass of wine while you wait for your Uber?” He was already pulling up the info on his phone, and unsuccessful in finding drivers who would answer him.

“Oooohhh, lookit you! You special spotted Scotty!” Ignoring him, she’d wandered over to the kitchenette and placed the Scottish fold on the countertop. She wrestled around with it, cooing at it, while it started clawing at her scarf. She teased it with a huge smile on her face and nuzzled against its nose.

“Heyyyy, I’m talking to you!” Frank said, impatiently. He followed her to the kitchenette and was stopped by the other kitten, a tom cat, who jumped from her purse and started brushing against his leg. Frank’s defenses melted and he picked it up with a gasp. “Oh, you sweetie, c’mere you.” He shoved it against his face. It was calmer than the other, and purred lovely against him, already sort of falling asleep. “You ready for sweepy times?” he asked, rubbing against its back and tail. “You ready to sweep in Frank’s new pad? And your new itsy widdle cat bed he stole from the rat dick at the pet shop? Oh, yes you are! Yes you are! It makes it even better to sweep in, doesn’t it?”

“Frank, lemme stay and play with the pussies a little longer? Can I?” Polly rushed up to Frank as he let the tom cat drop off him and run over to the TV. It curled against it and started playing with the disconnected HDMI cable.

“Fuck no,” he shouted, pointing at her angrily. “We’ve already spent all night out and inspection’s tomorrow. If the guys find out we spent the whole night...together..” He twiddled his fingers and eyed her body up and down in what he thought was disgust. “..then they’re never gonna let me live it down!”

“Frank, nothin’ happened. You big silly!” She continued blissfully playing with the kitten and shoveling sip after sip of Jack down her throat. She just wasn’t drunk enough.

“Doesn’t matter. I can see it in their faces already. Especially Steve.” He too shoveled back a bit of wine from the trendy container.

An awkward pause filled with tiny mews and notification beeps from Frank’s phone took over space in the room. He picked up his phone after about 10 seconds and browsed his notifications. “Oh, shit on a stick. None of my Uber drivers are responding! It’s like they all got drunk and started driving each other around or something.” He left out the tiny detail he missed about all his passenger scores being negative stars.

“Well, I don’t have to leave! It’s fine.” She actually meant it was “fine” this time.

“No, I know it’s fine with you!” Frank shouted through gritted teeth, completely missing the read. “But not for me.” He stormed to the fridge in search of a leftover salad. It was barely sufficient.

“Well, tell ya what, Frank-o,” she slurred in her midwest drawl, pulling out her phone. “How’s about I just call  _ Steeeve _ over and he can...pick me up.” She drew out those last words so slowly, it almost sounded…

Like…

“Wait, Steve?” Frank stopped mid mouthfull of quinoa.

“Yeah. Steve!” She sounded much more innocent all of a sudden.

“Hold on. You sound a  _ lot _ happier about spending time with him than me.”

“No, no! Not at all. In fact, I’d be happy to spend time with just about anyone, hell even that Cakes fucker who you keep babysitting.” She downed the rest of the mini Jack bottle and rolled her eyes. “Hoohh. I just wanna be away from my dick husband. What a nasty boy!” Letting out some sighs from the kick of the alcohol hitting her gut, she slumped down on the couch and laid her head on the pillow.

Frank sucked the air through his teeth. He nibbled softly on the salad, mumbling indecisively. A begrudged sigh later and he finally said, “Mnnyaaaaahhhh OKAY. Fine. You can stay. But only because Steve sucks.” He plopped himself on one of his bar stools and shoved spoonfuls of spinach into his mouth.

“Wooohoo!”

“Couch only!” he growled while munching. The Scottish fold found its way back on the counter and started trying to nibble at his salad. He grudgingly let it. “Mm, here. Have the nuts, those aren’t like toxic to cats, right?” He fed it off his fork.

Bored silence followed one more time.

A couple mews later and Frank got up, dusting the cat hair off his sports coat. “Welp.” He held a long sigh and removed it. “I guess I’ll. Turn in. Or something. C’mon Tom Pussy.” He scooped up the grey cat, calling it the loving nickname Polly gave it, and started heading towards the bathroom.

“Oh my word. These pussies are just magnificent!” shouted Polly from the other room, continuing to converse with Frank as he tried to tune her out with running water.

“Uh-huh. Pussies tend to be!” he shouted back.

“It’s a shame you’re keeping them. I coulda brought them back home for my husband, but…” She took a sip from his wine jar that he left on the counter. “...I can only imagine what sorta stuff he’d plan for me if I did that.”

A couple beard trims later and Frank poked his head out the door. “Your husband a theater nut or something? Hates cats?”

“No. He’s an industrial worker. Trade school and all that.” She took a couple more swigs, wobbling in her place. “I hate him.”

“I mean.” He didn’t know what to say. “I’d hate him too..I guess.” After a rinse and a ginger mouth wash he started lazily rubbing the remains of the day off his face.

“That’s sweet of you, Frankie,” she responded, actually touched.

“Whatever.”

She looked a bit more downtrodden and resolved to swing back over the couch.

Awkwardness was really in the air tonight. Frank did not approve. What could he do about it?

It’s not like he was especially good at reading people, hell no. But somehow he felt like he should do. Something. Maybe it was empathy? He didn’t have that often, no sir. And I mean. He had to admit, the thought of “blowing the client for the good of the firm” did appeal to him to some degree. Not to mention, he hadn’t gotten laid in what felt like a year.

“Frankie.” Her voice was breaking up. She was about ready to cry.

Great.

“What?” He poked his head out and saw her, sprawled on the couch, his wine in her hand, a red scrunched face.

“I’m so lonely, Frank.”

“What do you want me to do about it? We’re all fucking lonely here.” He snatched the wine back and took a swig of it himself. Any other night he’d care about germs but. Something compelled him to keep drinking.

“I get the feeling you get what I’m going through, dontcha know?”

“I don’tcha know.” He looked away, squinting.

“Could you..help me?” She scooted over and patted next to her spot on the couch. She wanted him next to her.

He rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in the air. “Listen, lady, I feel bad about your situation, I really do. But I’m not - ” Another awkward pause. Another noise of intense frustration. “FINE!” He got up and huffed over to her, turning on his DVR. “I’m not good at this whole affection thing, but if it’ll get us to pass inspection, here. Here’s a list of some bullshit movies, I got. Let’s see.”

Her shoulders bounced from crying as he sat down next to her. She bunched up in his lap.

He flinched. But complied.

She sniffed.

“Okay. So I got a few prequels. I got some Sandra Bollock movies. I got  _ Cats _ on broadway, wanna take a look at that? It might get you back on, you know, the whole cat thing?”

She stopped him with a sudden kiss.

“MmMM!” he shrieked, dropping the remote. And the glass of wine. It shattered on the carpet and the cats lapped the rest of it up, their pupils going crazy.

“Mmm..” she answered back sensually into his mouth.

“LADY!” he hollered at her and pushed her off. “That’s not - !” He stopped. He couldn’t fight it in himself, honestly. He sighed. “I - is that - is that really what you wanna do here? With me? Right now?”

“I dunno. I guess.” She shrugged. “I mean. I got a teesny bit of those vibes from you, I’m no liar.” Trailing a finger down his chest, she tried for another little kiss. He also recoiled. “But if you don’t want to, it’s fine.”

“I - I know..” He breathed out heavily as usual. His brow furrowed then relaxed, and he seemed a bit more. Convinced? He really did feel bad. Goddammit, this is not like him.

Maybe it’s the feeling of still being overshadowed and stuck in unhealthy relationships that really got to him. Maybe he was just desperate. Maybe he just cared about his job that much. Maybe he was just a little drunker than usual.

Fuck it.

“Fuck it.” He sighed. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

“Oh! Really?!” she happily asked, sitting up, straddling him.

“Hey! Hey, back off!” He shouted at her.

She listened, startled.

There’s that guilt again.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled. I guess. Ugh.” He rolled his eyes and rubbed his temples. “Just. Don’t get on top of me yet, alright? I like it  _ very  _ particular, you got it?”

“Sure, that’s fine.” She seemed content but still timid. Like she didn’t always mean what she said, and fawned in a male’s presence.

This annoyed Frank. But in a..weird way.

“Look this ain’t gonna be your typical sex, where the guy takes your mile and gives you only an inch.” He rolled up his sleeves. “You got tons of inches, and I got miles. Of experience. So, just sit back and relax.” He cracked his knuckles.

She kind of giggled. He glared at her.

“Frank you don’t gotta go easy on me. I may be in an abusive relationship but I can take a few bedroom beatings, ya know!”

He pursed his lips. It was extremely hard not to sport a raging boner at that statement.

“Oh hey..” she slurred, eyes half lidded, shit-eating grin on her face. She kneed in between his pants.

He whined. Blushed. Got angry again. He didn’t want to stop being on top. “Okay, I get it! It’s not that hard to get me hard, alright? Just lie down.” He sounded way less excited about this than he actually was.

Shallowly so. But. Still pity. Pity sex? Could that be it? No, he was doing his fucking job.

“Show me a good time, Frankie,” she begged, a horny anxiousness to her voice. She slid out of her bottoms, revealing deceivingly hot panties.

Oh, she was pretty. Frank doesn’t like chub, her big beauty was lost on him. But he never guessed, in her midwest prudity, that she’d ever wear this level of strippage on her body. She was donning a see-through black lace number.

Frank sighed and started sweating. He could see all of her chops through the garments, all her tools she had to work with. Her landing stripe of pubic hair pointing to the sweet sweet slit of pleasure. There was a tiny wet spot already. He salivated as he feasted his eyes.

“Damn, lady, you don’t uh..” He loosened his collar. God it was hard for him to keep his cool. “..you don’t pull punches, do ya?”

“Oh absolutely not. Here’s the only place I feel safe bein’ my true revealing self!” She started teasing the top of the panties, showing him the fold underneath her stomach and along her naked hips, smiling at him like she’d wanted to do this all night. “There’s nothing on God’s green earth wrong with a sexual woman. Men try to get all up in arms about that. Well you know what I say to that?” She gets on her knees. “We have wants too! We’re not just the absence of a phallus, no sir! We’re sexual creatures just as much as any man!”

“I hear ya, I hear ya.” He touched her shoulder to get her back down. Well, he knew where to start. Since she loved talking so much, he was gonna have to keep her mouth preoccupied. Despite just how much he wanted to start sucking her vagina raw right now.

“Oh Frank,” she breathed, placing a hand on his arm, following it in its ascent.

He confusingly moved his hand along her jawline and awkwardly moved her in for another kiss. She was far too hungry for this slow shit. She grabbed him, pulled him in close, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“MM!” he shouted, grit in his boy soprano.

She moaned all too happily into his mouth and he somewhat obliged. Trying to get back to his position of calm assertiveness, he moved forward so she was on her back. He mouthed over and over against her, tongue dancing in her mouth. He used way too much up front, he’s always had special abilities with his tongue. Just not in mouths.

She backed away a bit. “Not so much tongue at first, big boy.”

“Fuck you lady, I got skills.”

“Hey, you can always take pointers ya know.”

He grunted. This time he moved to her neck. Shutting her up wasn’t gonna work. He guessed if it didn’t work, and he had to continue working his tongue’s magic on that thin hot skin, he might as well turn on some tunes, some jams.

With one hand rolling up her shirt and the other on his remote, he “gracefully” turned on some Zero 7, some downtempo stuff. Sexy but not too sexy. Distracting enough.

Well, he was horny. But still. She wasn’t his type altogether. And with enough to drink tonight, he knew he’d regret it at least a little in the morning.

And a part of him thought she’d regret it as well.

“Frank..” she moaned as he licked up and down her jawline, her neck tendons. The sensitive spots were right above her shoulders, where she had bag carrying muscles. He slid his wet instrument along the tendons, ever so slightly at first. Hearing his name egged him on a little. He needed to get that shirt off her, and his off his own sweating uncomfortably hot body.

“I’m gonna - ” he breathed, wiping his mouth. “I’m gonna get that shirt off ya, Polly. Let’s see those tits, huh?”

“Oh go for it. And yours too, mister man.”

“My fucking tits? Jeeze, lady.” He unbuttoned his collared work shirt, slow, biting his lip.

She did the same, rolling her tiny digits along the curvature of her full supple body. He helped her out just as he said he would, and watched the rolling of fabric off that sweating translucent skin. Her tits were a great fucking size, brown nipples like bullseyes, gorgeous rolls of skin bulging with pure sex.

And as dysmorphic as he was about his own body, he had to admit. Seeing her put a finger in her mouth as she eyed him up and down, obviously turned on by him, filled him with at least a little bit of confidence. His average shape was still a presence, like he towered over with such overcompensation that it almost worked in his favor. Again, sweat dripped from both parties. Pure energetic lust in the air, untouchable and undefinable.

With another breathy whine he lowered himself down to her. “Want me to warm up those girls?”

“Yes, do it,” she breathed in return.

“Let’s get it straight that  _ you _ want to do this. With me. Got it?”

“Frank, yes, duh!”

He mumbled again. Lowering his wet lips, he caught one of her nipples. His beard scratched against her sensitive skin, rippling goosebumps from the bumpy stimulation. He made munching mumblings like he was eating that salad earlier, but obviously much...louder. Filled with energy. Filled with intent. And she responded by pulling at his hair, sighing into his mouthings, bucking into his touch. He rippled his fingers against her body, along the curvature down to her wide hips, her thiccc thighs, with triple Cs. Then he cupped her breasts, releasing his lips, and pinching at the puckering pleasure buttons at the center.

“Oww,” she goaded. “Be  _ rougher _ with me, why don’tcha?” She pulled on his wrists and closed in on his face.

“Oh, you got it!” His breath getting heavier, his boner getting thicker, he gripped her nipples between his thumb and forefinger like they were handles on a drawer. They flushed pink, red, raw and ready.

“Ffffuck, Frank, yes!” She yanked on his hair harder.

That just got him even more frustratingly aroused.

“Fuck this,” he growled. He ripped his pants off and threw them to the ground. His briefs were busting, like he’d just stuck an object between his pants in mimicry. “You want to start getting in on this?”

The song changed.

“Oh, I thought you were just being a pussy.” She said it so innocently and yet it stung. She meant it that way.

He growled again and tossed everything off her in a huff, swiftly and with as much bold masculine energy he could muster. Full of repressed anger. Her panties were on the floor, the musk of her budding arousal fresh in his nose, and he was ready to dive.

As he grasped onto her thighs and forced her ass upwards for him to do his thing, she flinched again and gasped.

“S-sorry, sorry,” he offered, still frustrated, not losing his grit.

But sudden movements he knew were a no now. He moved slower. She seemed to respond better.

His head dove towards her moist flower, starting to apply hard tongue circles to her clit, which he had to fold the outer labia a bit to get better access to. It was a budding violet, just like her.

Oh wait, that sounded too poetic and romantic in his head.  _ Bleh. Just think about the fact that you’re  _ nailing  _ this cunnilingus right now, man. _

“F-F-Frank!” she shouted in her falsetto. “Oohnnhgg..” Moaning deeper and deeper, pushing her vagina more and more against his face, the full thick hair in his beard tickling all along her lower labia and in the awaiting hole, practically watering.

Just this simple position, this fucking face full of fragility and fullness, this priming of the pussy.  _ This _ was what he fucked for. Feeling every nerve in his mouth, sensing every sense she’d search for, every beckoning in that bush. Feeling the weight of a woman’s want on his face. Knowing his every move is an extraction from the moan machine. He moaned too, loud whines, he was not afraid to take a bit of the role of the stereotypical porn star. Shouting through closed lips, high whimpers and yowls, like he wanted to show it was too much for him also. And it always was.

But he didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the ridiculousness of the situation in this particular moment; he was already cumming.

He hummed to stop. His dick was standing on edge without even a single touch. The clear pre taunted him. How in the fucking world did she get him this horny? “Mnokay that’s enough for now..” he said softly, breathless. His face felt naked.

“Wait, what’s goin’ on?” She looked up, also breathless. Her face flushed like a spanked ass. Her pupils were wide as golf balls in her small eyes. Then she raised her eyebrows and smirked, staring daggers into Frank’s cock. “You’re already about to burst aren’t ya?”

“Shut up!” He rubbed his temples again.

“I’m that sexy for you? And I thought you didn’t wanna get down..” She fiddled with her hair, toying with him.

“Lady, don’t make me get all sweet talkin’ with you. This is for the good of the inspection, this is to make sure you’re happy.” His gritted teeth were just enough to hide how much her teasing had him salivating again. Her juices still fresh in his mouth. God, he wanted his head down there again. He hoped she didn’t see him lick his lips.

She started using her toe to fish his dick out of damp briefs.

He squeaked, his face furious. And a bright pink rouge emerging.

She giggled and, with both feet, slapped his briefs against his waist and inner thighs. He breathed and moaned into the touch grudgingly as ever. “Godd..” he tried to let out without sounding like he was  _ enjoying this oh so much oh fuck oh god _ ..

She took the balls of her feet and started rubbing them up and down his exposed cock once the briefs were off. She was so slow, so methodical, so achingly teasing, he had to put his hand on her ankles to stop her before he blew.

His shoulders bounced so rapidly from his breathing, he felt a panic coming on. He could  _ not _ look this virginal and desperate in front of this fucking lady. How did she know all these buttons?

“Fraaaaank,” she sing-songed, finger in her mouth again, enticing. Another rubbing from her feet, curling of her toes, and his balls tightened against them.

He whined long and loud. “Mmmmmnnnhoooooohhhhh Pollyyyyy,” he begged, trying to keep his cool, oh so desperately trying to keep his cool, oh so  _ desperately  _ -

He couldn’t do it. He grabbed the briefs seconds before he came, covering his wet cock with them. He didn’t want to clean his cum off his couch again, no way.

Not over this lay.

But still. This orgasm was. Amazing. Goddamn.

“aaAAAAAHHH!” he shouted, eyes going wide, then squinting as he pumped more and more. He shivered and his knees buckled. His arms went tense and held onto his body as he shot a few more loads, moaning in repeated bursts and cries.

“Oooh, Frank,” Polly said, excited, and moved in on him as he rode out his premature orgasm. She gripped his face and body with both hands, pushing her tits together, tasting herself on his lips, as he screamed through this unnaturally long climax. She felt his muscles release and tense all in one, convulsions abound.

With a final grip to his cock and a final scream, he sighed out of his orgasm. She laid with him as he let his body go with a sigh and collapsed into the pillow below him.

“Looks like you needed that more than I did, lover boy,” she teased, ever so merciless. But she sounded happy.

“Sh-shut - up - Karen - ” he panted.

“You got one more bolt in you?” she whispered, playing with his beard.

“I - don’t - maybe?” Coherent sentences were a thing of the past.

She pushed his face in between her boobs, his muffled scream like music to her ears. Then, in a towering position, she took a seat on his face.

He was just on the seat rest, so it wasn’t a full towering. Or maybe that’s what he was telling himself to ward off just how fucking thankful he was that she was on his face again, dear God. He went to work again.

She humped against him as his tongue worked more of its magic on her clit. “Ffffmmmnnnnnnn,” she sang. Huffing and puffing against his huffing and puffing, she tugged on his hair again, fully submerging this man into his comfort zone.

His cock became half hard again. Who the fuck knew.

He did.

He sang against her skin again, lapping her up and feeling every quiver she had. The pulsating pussy at his lips was just about ready, and he only begged her to push him deeper. He could drown in there.

Goddamn what was he doing.

“Frank! I’m - Keep going! Ahh!” She repeated gasp after gasp. With both hands he squeezed hard and spread her ass cheeks. She finally gripped him by the ears, like she was fucking his mouth, and humped him against her cunt at the speed of light. He met the speed, and sucked that ruby raw and red. Desperate and not having breathed in a full minute, he rubbed his entire face against her pulsating sex in hopes she’d cum on his face in animalistic glory.

And she did. Boy did she.

Pushing and pushing, she came like a rolling wave. She pulsed like him, convulsed like him, screamed like him. But prettier. She laughed through her orgasm. She giggled like a school girl, at a mature experienced age, naughty and outside the rules. She defiled herself against his defiled face, pulled him into her cunt as she burst. Seemed she was a squirter; it rolled down his neck and along his heaving collarbone.

She let him go and he took a deep rewarding breath of pussy-less air. Their breaths mixed and she held onto him once more, the echoes of the climax bubbling through their hot skin.

“God - ” His breath caught up to him. She echoed those helpless pants. “- DAMMIT!” he finished.

“I know.” She grew wide-eyed. “I just cheated on my husband.”

“Oh who cares about that! I just - I just ffffucked my college board inspector….”

“Wasn’t it good?”

He stopped. She was cuddled against him, trailing fingers on his chest. Feeling the weight of her hotness against him in the afterglow, his half-hard cock aching but. He was tired. He was exhausted. He was spent.

And he felt good.

Goddamn he felt good.

His heartbeat wasn’t weighing him down but rather pulling him up.

He took a long, long, loooooong sigh. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in a little closer.

Just because. He hadn’t been this close with someone in this long, you know? He wanted the warmth, that satisfaction.

He did it.

“Y-yeah. I guess - I guess it was.”

“Well, that’s good to hear after that long pause, mister man.” She giggled jokingly.

“Yeah.” He pursed his lips. He’d suddenly be cool with her staying. Staying here. Staying specifically here, in his arms. “Yeah.”

She nuzzled against him with smile.

**Author's Note:**

> My fics might not be as consistently uploaded as of now, since I've only really been uploading old ones and focusing more on fanart.
> 
> Just a heads up! Thanks for readin this mess!


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